Giving a brief side-to-side appraisal of the streets around him, Masterson pulled his hood low over his head to shadow his face, and headed in.
Pushing through the entrance into the dim, cramped space inside, Masterson’s nostrils filled with the savory scent of breakfast meat as something sizzled in the back. From the foyer, he counted six patrons scattered about the room, all hunched over plates of the morning special, looking exhausted. Each of them had leathery skin and wore credentials from the new Reiser plant on their sweat-stained shirts.
Probably the last of the night shift. Seeing the aproned bartender returning through the swinging doors in the back, coffee pot in hand, Masterson descended to the concrete floor and walked toward one of the booths in back where another man sat, hands clasped around a bloodred cocktail. Tall and slender, his fifty years showed in his wrinkled skin, his long, scraggly hair, and his thin jaw covered in salt-and-pepper stubble. It was his clothing, however—rumpled cargo pants, a pit-stained shirt, scuffed captain’s boots, and a plainly visible sidearm—that betrayed his smuggler’s occupation.
“Mr. Reese, I presume,” the man said in a high, scratchy voice.
Mindful of the shadows cast by his hood from the lamplight overhead, Masterson sat opposite the man and waved off the bartender, who was already coming to take his order. “Captain Timmons. I’m pleased you could meet with me this morning.”
“Yeah, well, it ain’t every day a man in my profession gets a call from one of you high-society, legit-shipping boys, particularly one who rarely shows his face to his own customers.” The aging smuggler regarded Masterson’s cowl with curiosity, but didn’t try to look under it. “Word around the yards is you don’t deal personally with top-level earners, much less somebody like me. Ordinarily, I’d ask ‘to what do I owe the honor?’ but I figure you’d only give me a load of crap. So why bother?”
“That’s quite astute of you, Captain,” Masterson said. “Anonymity has its benefits, though I’m sure you of all people can appreciate that.”
Timmons nodded.
“Now,” Masterson said, “do you have what I asked for?”
Timmons drummed a set of skeletal fingers on the table, as if contemplating whether or not to say something else. He didn’t. Instead, he reached into his coat pocket and produced a small, rectangular object that was roughly the size of a large matchbox.
Masterson felt his blood rush at the mere sight of it. The device was an old-style Auran data drive, and by the look of it—weathered scarring across much of the outer casing with most of its corresponding buoy numbers worn off—this particular drive had been exposed to open space for a very, very long time.
Timmons tucked the device back into his pocket and steepled his fingers. “So…shall we talk price?”
* * *
Once their business had concluded, the smuggler all but skipped out of the cantina, visibly ecstatic over his markedly fattened account.
Safe travels, Captain Timmons, Masterson thought with a grim smile. The thing about Detron City was that, for all the publicity surrounding its recent economic uptick, it was still home to scores of people in dire need of a paycheck. People like the thousands of engineers and mechanics left out of work when the factories closed—some of whom were just desperate enough that they’d plant a detonator on anything, without question, for the right amount.
Masterson reached into his satchel and pulled out the portable power supply and monitor he’d brought with him, and connected the drive he’d just purchased. From there, he watched through wide eyes as the power light atop the device flickered once, then twice, then stayed a solid green.
“Fort Manning Control, this is Inferno 1,” the man in the video feed said. “As of 2200 hours on the above spectral date, I have successfully located and infiltrated the Beyonder homeworld.”
“Finally.”
* * * * *
Chapter 4: Homecoming
“Dr. Summerston?” a tiny flower girl called from the bride’s fitting room down the hall.
“Yeah?” Katie said, breaking from her chat with the florist and photographer. “Everything all right?”
The flower girl made a face. “Yes, ma’am. I think so. But she says she really needs you. Like, right now.”
Pausing for a quick check of her long blond hair and makeup—both professionally done earlier this morning and holding up remarkably well given Tallahassee’s notorious humidity this time of year—Katie headed for the door to the bride’s dressing room. Once inside, she rounded a corner to find Evelyn McKinsey, radiant as ever with her long auburn hair and strapless white wedding gown. She was standing in front of a mirror and cursing like a sailor.
“Sorry it’s not jeans and a Yankees cap, hon,” Katie said. That earned her a fresh glare from the bride.
“Totally not helping,” Mac said, all but toppling over on her three-inch heels. “Won’t even lie, a little help from the maid of honor would be kinda awesome right now.”
Katie snickered then stepped closer to help. “Relax, everything’s gonna be fine. The dress looks great, the flowers look great, the photographer says he’s—”
“I know, I know,” Mac said with a roll of her emerald eyes. “It’s great. Just…bear with me, okay? Bridal jitters and all that.”
Katie flashed a grin. “I’d be worried at anything less. I mean, this is only my little brother you’re finally marrying.”
Mac stared at the ceiling. “Ya know, everybody says that about us. But you do recall that I was stuck in LA for five years while your brother was married to psycho Red Sox girl, right?”
Katie winced. “Yeah, we don’t talk about her at Thanksgiving.”
“Not really something I like to relive, either. But I digress.” Mac started to say something else but hesitated before doing it. “So…it’s officially Dr. Summerston again, huh?”
Katie’s joviality vanished. Less than a year ago, she’d worn a big, sparkly rock of her own on her left hand plus a badge on her lab-coat lapel with the name “Kaitlin Ferris, MD.” But that was before the call, after which had come the confession. That had led to the fight, then to his moving out, then to a break. After that came counseling, followed by phone chats, then a handful of very awkward “date nights,” which inevitably led to his second confession that he was still sleeping with the tramp! From there came the temporary injunction, followed by a brutal custody battle, then even more fights, and finally—after countless hours of bickering, thousands of dollars in legal fees, and nine years of a rotten marriage—a court date with a King County judge to settle it all.
On the bright side, Katie thought, at least that cute little coffee-girl waitress downtown had gotten hers before it was all over…a keyed car, an “I heart married guys!” banner on her social media page, and one seriously dotted eye compliments of the good old Summerston right cross. Bitch!
“Yeah,” Katie said, remembering that Mac had really done her a solid by hacking Coffee Girl’s account for the banner part. “Divorce paperwork was final two weeks ago. It’s all good, though, right?” she asked with a clumsy laugh. “I always hated Ferris anyway…made me sound like a friggin’ carnival ride.”
Mac’s expression warmed. “Kinda fond of Summerston, myself.”
“I would hope so. You’re kinda stuck with it after today.”
They laughed.
“How’s Oliver doing with all of this?” Mac asked.
Katie shrugged. “How does any three-year-old kid deal with this kind of crap? All he knows is that his dad only comes around once every other weekend now, and that’s if he’s lucky. The way I hear it, Dan’s already shacked up with Coffee Girl, and they stay pretty busy out on the road. She’s an aspiring singer-songwriter, you know.”
Mac pretended to gag.
“I know, right?”
The two snickered for a moment at Coffee Girl’s expense.
“So any plans from here?” Mac asked. “I mean, now that the divorce is final, you could even leave Seattle i
f you wanted, right?”
Katie tilted her head and pulled up a chair. “Yeah, I got sole custody so I can take off if I want, and I’ve thought about it. I just don’t know where I’d go that’s better than where I am. Ya know? For me and for Oli. Sure, part of me loves the idea of moving closer to home, but—”
“So do your folks, I’d add.”
“I know,” Katie said. “But the reality is they’re not getting any younger, Mac. They’ve agreed to take Oli for the next two weeks to give me some time alone. But even that’s a stretch for them now.”
“Ah, c’mon,” Mac said. “Give your old man a little credit. That guy’s tough as nails.”
“Sure he is. But you know what else he is? Seventy-three years old in September, and while that man would do anything in the world for his grandson, he just doesn’t have the energy he used to. And believe me, energy is not something Oli is short on.” Katie sighed. “At least in Seattle, I’ve got a smidge of regular help.”
“Yeah, but Seattle’s a bummer,” Mac said with a dismissive wave. “It rains all the time and their musicians wear too much flannel. Besides, with your cred at the hospital and NIH, I’d think you could write your ticket to any med facility in the country, right?”
Katie pulled out her smartphone and checked the time. “Maybe, if there’s a job open. Heaven knows if it were only me, I’d punch out just to get a fresh start away from my ex. But it’s not just me, Mac.” She paused and glanced down at the blue-eyed boy in the fully-costumed Superman pose on her home-screen. “Not anymore, it’s not. Add it all up, and Seattle just feels like the safest option right now.”
Mac wobbled over and placed a hand on Katie’s shoulder. “Listen, you know we support whatever decision you make. That said, as your soon-to-be sister-in-law and Oli’s only aunt, I’d be remiss if I didn’t add at least one caveat.”
“Yeah, what’s that?”
“Don’t let money sway your decision. I don’t know what the divorce did to your finances, what with you being a single mom now and all. But Lee and I have you covered if you need. You just worry about doing what’s best for you, your career, and your son. Cool?”
Katie gave her friend a hug, mindful of the bride’s hair and makeup. “All right, enough of my sad soap-opera madness already. This is your wedding day, so how about we get on with the happy? Tell me about the honeymoon. Where are you guys going?”
Mac’s face lit up. “Ooh, it’s gonna be awesome! We ship out first thing tomorrow morning, and with any luck, we’ll hit our resort on Hyndel 3 at—”
“Hyndel what?”
Mac froze. “Hawaaa…iii. Hawaii. ’Cause that’s where we’re going…on our honeymoon…and stuff.”
A moment of awkward silence passed before someone knocked on the door.
“Yeah, who is it?” Mac called out, visibly grateful for the interruption.
“Oh, no one special,” a deep voice responded with its familiar Scottish charm. “Just an old friend hoping to pay his respects to the bride ahead of the masses.”
“Come on in, sweetie,” Mac said.
Stepping inside and closing the door behind him, Hamish Lunley squared his massive shoulders, offered a bow of his dark-skinned head, then swept his old friend into the gentlest of embraces. “Oh, love. Never in the history of the world has there ever been a bride as majestic as you. Truly a vision, y’are.”
Mac blushed. “Aw, thanks so much, Hamish. How’s it going out there? Everybody here?”
“Aye. Yer parents are here, as are Lee’s, and Link and Layla just got here a few minutes ago.”
“Yeah, and where’s Danny?” Mac asked, a hint of fresh panic in her voice. “He came in with the Baxters, right?”
“Aye,” Hamish said. “They told me he’s on his way.”
Katie checked the time. “Best man’s cutting it a bit close, isn’t he? It’s bad enough he missed the rehearsal dinner last night, but now he’s gonna cruise through the door a half an hour before the ceremony? That’s nice.”
Hamish waved her off. “Worry not, Katie. All groomsmen, including the groom himself, will be present and accounted for at the designated time.”
“Yeah, about the groomsmen,” Katie said, taking a step back and regarding his uniform—Auran Star Corps military dress blues complete with assistant chief engineer stripes on his right sleeve, the Scottish national flag on his left, and a full spectrum of medals on his broad chest. “Like…I love you guys. Really, I do. And I know you’re all hard-core gamers, which is totally fine. Everybody has their thing in life they geek about.” Katie’s expression went flat. “But a cosplay wedding? Seriously?”
Mac traded wry grins with Hamish. “Yeeeah. We’re just nerdy that way, I guess.”
* * * * *
Chapter 5: Wedding Bells
Fidgeting with the hair gel he hadn’t worn in years, Danny glared into his rearview mirror then hung a left onto South Monroe Street toward the Summit Church of Tallahassee. There, in less than thirty minutes, the Summerston-McKinsey wedding was set to begin.
“Damn it,” he muttered at his watch. It was bad enough that he, Link, and Layla hadn’t touched down at the Phoenix Game Company’s new eastern facility in nearby Wakulla until an hour ago. But then, like a moron, he’d gotten sidetracked talking shop with Lieutenant Hoyer in the PGC hanger bay. Translation: if he wasn’t late before, he sure was now. “Mac is so gonna kill me.”
Peering through the windshield as his gray 1970 Camaro rumbled down the highway, Danny spied the Florida capitol building in the distance and felt a familiar pang of dread wash over him. Was he thrilled to be here for his friends? Sure. But on any other day, he hated coming back to Earth, and had pretty much from the day he’d left it behind to join Lee, Mac, Link, and Hamish on the original Mimic Project. There was just nothing here for him. On Aura, he had people who mattered to him, like Xeek Anders and the guys from his unit, or Noll and the rest of the 102. They were his community now, his circle, and alongside them he’d found a sense of meaning, of purpose. Here, he was just an out-of-work cop in a piss-poor economy, with mountains of debt, a hidden drinking problem, and a worldview so jaded it made most civilians cringe.
Danny could still remember the day five years ago when it’d all changed. He’d been stuck here in his Tally apartment, poring over his latest stack of job rejections with his third finger of black-label Nikolai when, somewhere around one thirty in the afternoon, his cell phone had rung. It’d been Lee on the other end, saying that some rich guy named Reiser wanted to talk to them about Mako Assault, the game they’d beaten online the night before.
The funny thing was, Danny had wanted no part of the Aurans in the beginning. As far as he’d been concerned, their problems, legit or not, had nothing to do with him. Furthermore, what idiot in his right mind, on the heels of finding out that he’s not alone in the universe—through a videogame, no less—agrees to run off with a crackpot alien doctor posing as a corporate PGC bigwig to a galaxy far, far away where, oh by the way, their people were facing annihilation in a war?
A crazy, idealistic country boy obsessed with doing the right thing, Danny recalled with a chuckle. But that was Lee—always had been, always would be—and Danny wasn’t about to let him and the others run off to face it without him.
Then, as if things hadn’t been confusing enough at the time, Danny had met her…that brilliant and beautiful, infuriatingly stubborn and egotistical genius of a woman who’d pissed him off to the point of near-insanity while simultaneously shearing through every emotional, psychological, and sociological wall he’d ever built to leave him completely and utterly captivated.
If only his mom could’ve been here to meet her…
Danny sighed then swung left onto West Gaines. These days, he didn’t even keep a condo on his homeworld. Why would he? Everything that made his life worth living anymore was on Aura: his job, his unit, his girlfriend. Even Lee and the others were there, all having settled into their new lives as enlisted members of
the Auran Star Corps.
Still, Danny thought as Doak Campbell Stadium loomed before him, Earth hadn’t been a total wash. He, Lee, and the others really had enjoyed some sweet times during their days at Florida State, and it was those relationships that had inevitably led him to everything that made his life worth living today. So with that in mind, and given the wonderful significance of the ceremony he’d soon get to witness, ASC Staff Sergeant Daniel Rhett Tucker swallowed his melancholy, gave a final fix to his hair, and told himself that, just for today, it was good to be home.
* * *
Pulling into the church’s parking lot, Danny eased the Camaro to rest near the back row of spaces in time to see a visibly perturbed redhead—stunning as ever in a blue silk, cross-neck cocktail dress—clicking across the pavement in a skillful yet hastened march despite her three-inch heels.
“Where the hell have you been, Danny?” Madisyn Reynolds fumed, halting before him and cramming the garment bag containing his uniform against his chest. “You’re an hour late, and you still have to get dressed!”
“Hey, it’s not my fault. Captain Weldon has had us behind schedule ever since the Larrin broke orbit around Aura.”
“Oh, that explains it, then,” Madisyn said with a hand on her hip. “Except for the part where Link and Layla got here thirty minutes ahead of you after arriving on the exact same ship!”
Danny raised his hands in surrender.
“Uh huh. Skip the shop talk with Hoyer and these things don’t happen.”
“Relax. We’ll make it, already.”
“You say that now, Danny,” Madisyn scoffed, giving a quick inspection of his hair. “But Mac would kick a puppy right now to get to your throat, and don’t even go near Lee’s sister.”
Danny’s expression flattened. “Yeah…Katie’s never really been a big fan of me anyway, so I’d expect as much.”
Red Sky Dawning Page 4
